Ireland
A poem about Ireland where my mother was born

Ireland The green grass Of home Where my ancestors Were born.
The humble Cobbled streets The narrow lanes The sprawling hills The surrounding Greenery An Irish place To call home.
Empty Sandy beaches County Sligo owns Like Enniscrone And Rosses Point Where Its dunes nestle Hilly and fun It’s a vision Of explicit abundance Enjoyed family picnics And the hotness Of the sun After the rain Has taken a run.
We ran Through the fields Of green grass Passed The nun’s convent Where quietness Ruled But my cousins And brothers Played basketball On the grounds Laughing And shouting And having fun.
We passed The cows Their sounds Mooed with grunts Rippling and rifling As I ran on by.
We hung out And played Around the caves A rockery of life Where leprechauns May have strived Living in their echoes Of their sounds No longer around.
We ran down a hill In my mother’s Home town Where old buildings Lurk A rundown And a shambles The unhindered Happiness Those times were.
But the Irish Hauntings The pub life Rambling An Irish setting Memories so old Of my younger days, Still alive for a visit Some day soon Nostalgia Thirty years later.
Copyright © 2020 Denise Larkin. All Rights Reserved.
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